


Picture Of You

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the picture of John in his head that keeps Sherlock focused on his task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Of You

Sherlock wanted to remember the happy times. Teasing John about his blog, running off on cases together, those moments when John's face just lit up. His charming mirth. He wanted to remember anything other than that last moment, John's face contorted in stunned silence. The image was blurry around the edges, nothing in focus but John. 

Sherlock wished he could forget that image, the face of John as he tried to get close to Sherlock after he'd jumped. That memory led to a host of others, all assaulting him at once, unstoppable. The burn of John's finger's against his wrist in that last moment, the sight of his limp returned as he walked away from Sherlock's graveside. Those words, those haunting words that woke Sherlock in a cold sweat. “Please, he's my friend-” he awoke screaming more than once, shivering, cold, alone.

But some things were too precious to delete. Some things, some pain, he needed. Just as he once kept the memory of every harsh name he'd ever been called in university to remind himself of his drive, -alone protects me- so he now kept those images of John. He died for John, after all. He was willing to do it all again, he knew. The pool where the threat of John gone was enough to still his gun. The rooftop where jumping, even if he was mostly sure he'd survive, meant there was a chance he wouldn't. Even now, he knew that finding the rest of the web would be worth whatever cost. Even if it cost him his life, it would keep John safe, and that was enough. That was worth the pain, the nightmares, the haunting images that plagued him.

If it wasn't worth it, for the chance to see John out of danger for good, to see his fury if -when- Sherlock walked back into his life... If it wasn't worth this... Sherlock had to believe it was. That was what mattered. If Sherlock believed it, it would be. And maybe one day he'd be able to put that picture to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame Random Nexus for this, for introducing me to Jamie Freeman's music. This lovely piece of pain was inspired by "Picture of You". I highly recommend you go give it a listen.


End file.
